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Chapter One

Friday, July 16, 1999

When the tornado siren began to screa with him

Him

The foreuy with the deep tan and the hard hat and the oh-my-lord arms

Everybody had a different nauards called him “the Italian Stallion” A patron had referred to him as “Mr Yummy” Rosalie, the weekday receptionist, said his name was actually Patrick Mazzara, and he was trouble

Aht of him as “him”

She thought of hiood for her

Gusts of wind flung the sound of the siren at the building, drowning out whatever noises hebehind the thick plastic curtain that separated the construction zone from the rest of the center But he was definitely over there

Knohen he left was part of her job As program director, A and locked up at five Sometimes, like today, she had to wait around for hione home She would sit behind the counter of the tall, curved reception desk and i aside the plastic curtain to ask when heup It’s twenty after I need to head home

She never actually did it, though She’d never been brave enough to initiate the conversation, and there was nothing so pressing on her agenda that she couldn’t wait for him

Except, right now, the siren see all the people in the center down to the baseency was another one of Aet off her tush and round the man up

But then she’d be alone with him in the basement

The notion sihtened her On the one hand, it felt a little bit like Providence tapping her on the shoulder Is this what you wanted? Here you go! Carpe diem!

On the other hand, she was fee e men who’d been described to her as “trouble” Because what if? What if seven hundred different horrible things happened?

Snore the what-ifs

They didn’t ignore tornado sirens, either

She ht have sat there forever, i at the exact same moment his shape materialized as a red-and-blue blob behind the plastic sheeting

“Camelot Community Center This is Amber Can I help you?”

“Why are you still by the phone? Don’t you hear the siren?”

Her mother Perfect

“Yeah, I hear it”

He shoved the curtain aside and walked across the lobby, past the desk toward the front doors Surely he wasn’t—